Peter studied the small opening anxious to gain entrance into the new world, but there was no way he could fit through the hole in the tree. He fingered a path around the massive trunk hoping to discover a larger access. Laura tugged at the moss and the bark, mixing her curiosity with his.

With his fingers pressed together and his thumbs tucked underneath, Peter measured the hole. The opening stretched five hands wide. “Laura, I think you can fit through the hole.” His voice filled with excitement over his calculation. “Once you are inside you can look for another way for me to get in.”

Expectation danced in Laura’s eyes. She pushed in front of Peter and jumped up to gain a peek into the hole. “Wait.” Peter rolled a big chunk of wood next to Laura and set it on its end. She climbed onto the wooden step. “Remember, once you crawl inside look for a door or anything big enough for me to squeeze through.”

“I promise.” She leaned close to the hole ready to poke her head inside. Suddenly the hole shrunk to the size of a walnut and Laura fell backwards into Peter’s arms. “Did you see that? The tree swallowed the hole.”

Peter helped Laura off the stump and squinted into the shrunken hole with one eye. Instantly, the hole grew to the five hand measure again. “A tenturnion must enter first,” echoed the sound of his own voice from inside the tree.

“The hole is too small. I won’t fit,” Peter answered.

“If you measure the body of your knowledge a perfect fit will be discovered,” echoed the voice.

Peter scratched his head as he worked the problem over and over in his brain. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t stand naked in your callow youth exposing your inexperience and immaturity. Grow the feathers needed to fly into the situation, then put your shoulder into it. Push. Push through the inner barrier.” The voice carried an edge of irritation.

Peter slumped against the tree and slid down the trunk until he sat at the base with his legs tucked under him. Laura sat next to him hugging her knees to her chin. After several minutes rocking back and forth in deep thought Peter sprang to his feet. “Push. Maybe we need to push against the tree.” They pushed with their hands, their legs, their whole bodies, dancing their way around the tree, but nothing happened.

Aided with frustration Peter poked his head through the hole again. He scanned the area with his telescope hoping a written message or a map might hang from the walls or ceiling. The smooth, polished walls reflected the colors from the door nobs and bounced their images around the space, blinding his attempt at any new discovery.

Peter worked his feet to steady his balance and pointed the telescope toward the ceiling at the same moment Laura nudged him. The telescope slipped from his hands and tumbled onto a small ledge below. He stretched his arms as far as he could reach but his attempt left him a nose length short.

With his toes dug into the ground at the base of the tree trunk, Peter pushed and pushed until his shoulders pressed and wedged themselves inside the opening of the hole. He was stuck. Stuck in the hole of the tree and still a half a nose shy from reaching the telescope.

Adding grunts and groans to his inability to twist or pull himself free, Laura threw herself into action. She grabbed her brother’s legs and pulled, doing nothing more than almost tearing off his jeans. Peter kicked his feet like a bullfrog swimming in a pond and sent Laura to the ground.

“I was only trying to help,” she yelled at his wiggling back side.

With his adrenaline building he took a deep breath and pushed his shoulders one last time. A startling tremor shook the tree. The hole expanded. Peter fell inside.

“Welcome to the world of Wogglescott, Peter.” Directly in front of Peter stood a man with long, lean arms and legs, resembling skinny tree branches. His green clothing did nothing to camouflage the tufts of green leaves poking out from his shirt sleeves and neckline, as well as the waist and bottom of his pant legs. “I am Poggemiller.” His low, soft spoken voice pitched his words at a slow pace, no match for Peter’s higher, strong tone. “Brush yourself off, collect your telescope, and follow me.”

The low ceiling only allowed Peter to move on his hands and knees or slide along on his rump. A troublesome detail Poggemiller didn’t face as he stood only half of Peter’s four foot height.

“Peter, are you alright?” Laura yelled.

Poggemiller pointed a long narrow finger at the opening. “The entrance will remain open to you Laura, if Peter offers you admittance.”

Peter crawled back to the opening. “Laura, take my hand.” He helped his sister slide through the hole. On hands and knees Laura stayed close to her brother’s side.

“Welcome Laura. I am Poggemiller.” He bent in the middle and bowed. “Since you are a minus two tenturnion you must always ask permission to enter each angle and never turn a nobble leading into another Neeve. Understood?”

Laura swallowed hard, shifted her eyes to Poggemiller’s long narrow shoes and nodded in reply, even though she had no idea what he meant.

Peter held his eyes on Poggemiller’s face. He knew it wasn’t polite to stare but he only intended to study him long enough to guess at his age and maybe what he concealed behind his wide toothless smile and dark green eyed stare. And did he hide anything beneath his green stovepipe hat?